CHAPTER VII

A NIGHT CHASE

“Who’s that?” cried Jim Nestor.

“The rapid-fire chap!” exclaimed his partner.

“That’s right--It’s Andy Rush,” declared Bob.

“Don’t stop to talk, Chunky!” fairly shouted Jerry, giving his stout chum the nickname sometimes applied to him. “Get a move on! If Noddy Nixon is trying some more of his tricks we’ll stop him short.”

“That’s what!” cried Jim Nestor.

“I’m with you,” added Harvey Brill.

By this time Jerry had reached the hall and caught up his hat. His example was followed by his chums and the two Westerners. As for Mr. Baker and Mr. Slade they sat back helplessly in their chairs.

Mrs. Hopkins looked alarmed at first, and then with a resigned air said:

“Oh, well, there’s no use worrying. Noddy and the boys are having one of their periodical outbreaks.”

“That young scamp ought to be sent out of the country,” declared Mr. Baker.

Meanwhile Jerry and his chums had reached the porch, where they found Andy Rush awaiting them.

“When did it happen?” demanded Bob.

“Did you see him?” inquired Ned.

“Where did he go with our boat?” came from Jerry.

“Up the river!” panted the small chap, still breathing hard from his running and shouting. “I happened to come past the dock--I saw someone down there--it was dark--couldn’t make out who it was--thought it was you fellows--I yelled--wanted a ride--no answer--thought that was funny--ran down--just in time to see Noddy and Bill Berry start off--wow!”

“What did you do?” asked Ned.

“Told Noddy he’d better not take your boat--said I’d tell you.”

“What did he say?” Bob asked.

“Just laughed and put on more power. Better hurry, if you want to catch him!”

“Of course we do!” asserted Ned; “but how can we if he has our boat, a good start and is heading up stream? We’d better tell the police----”

“Police nothing!” snapped Jerry Hopkins. “We’ll attend to this case ourselves!”

“That’s the way to talk!” exclaimed Mr. Nestor. “And when we get hold of that Noddy Nixon we’ll make him walk Spanish!”

“But it’s dark,” objected Bob. “We can’t see him, and besides, we have no other boat!”

“Come on!” cried Jerry shortly, as he raced toward the street. “Never mind the dark--we can get a lantern.”

“But a boat?” asked Ned.

“Down at the club house!” said Jerry, tersely. “We’ll borrow one of the craft--I guess they won’t mind. We’ve got to get our boat!”

“I’m on!” yelled Ned, as he raced beside his chum and Andy Rush, Bob, being heavier, brought up the rear with the two men, who were not used to running. However, all made fair time.

Jerry led the way toward the river. The motor boys had their own private boathouse, where their craft, the _Dartaway_, was kept. This was not their original motor boat of that name, for their first boat had met an untimely fate in a wreck, as my old readers know. But the lads had kept the name, and had bestowed it on a much larger and finer boat which they now owned.

“What do you suppose he took our boat for?” asked Ned of Andy, as they raced on.

“Just to be mean,” declared the small chap.

“His own was probably out of commission,” put in Jerry. “It usually is, and I guess he wanted a ride, so he took ours.”

“He may damage it,” came from Ned.

“It would be just like him to,” asserted Andy. “He doesn’t care where he runs with a boat or an auto.”

“No, nor an airship either,” said Jerry. For Noddy, following the example of the motor boys, had managed to acquire a craft of the air, as well as one that skimmed over the water. He also owned an automobile.

“Think there’ll be any boats at the club house?” asked Ned, as they neared the river.

“There usually are at this time in the evening,” said Jerry. “We’ll confiscate one if we have to.”

During the past year the Cresville Athletic Club, to which our heroes belonged, had branched out into aquatics, and had built a fine boathouse on the river for the use of such of its members as had motor boats. As Jerry said, there were usually one or more such craft at the dock these Spring evenings.

It was now quite dark, for dinner, at which had been talked over the plan for getting the sixty nuggets of gold, had been somewhat protracted, and night had fallen when Andy Rush made his startling announcement.

“There are two boats!” cried Ned, as he and Jerry, in the lead, came in sight of the club house.

“Yes, one is Mr. Wakefield’s _Iris_,” said Jerry, who knew every boat in the club. “And the other is Mr. Wood’s _Eel_.”

“Which one’ll you take?”

“The _Eel_, I guess. She’s faster, though not so easy to handle. Pile in! Do you see anything of him?”

“Yes, there he is, just going up to the reading room,” spoke Ned, for there was a separate building from the boathouse where the club members could read, or get a light lunch. “Shall I call to him?”

“No, just run up and explain things to him,” suggested Jerry. “I’ll be getting his boat in shape for the chase. I’ll have to light the lamps and see if there’s gas enough. Andy and Bob will help me. We’ll be ready to start when you come back. I know Mr. Wood will let us take the _Eel_.”

Ned raced off to catch the club member, and quickly explained what was wanted. Mr. Wood was an enthusiastic motorist, and had taken an interest in our heroes ever since they rode their first bicycle race under the club auspices, and had won motorcycles.

“Take my boat?” he cried. “Of course you may! She’s full of gasoline and all ready for a fast run. Go as far as you like! That Noddy Nixon again; eh? You fellows will have to teach him a lesson!”

“We have, but it doesn’t seem to do much good,” complained Ned, as he turned back to rejoin Jerry, who was busy getting the _Eel_ in shape for the pursuit.

By this time Mr. Nestor and his partner, together with Bob, had caught up with the others. Andy was helping Jerry light the port, starboard and stern lights, as well as the white one in the bow.

“What’s up?” demanded Mr. Nestor.

“Going to start the stamp-mill going?” asked his friend.

“We’re going to catch the fellow that has our boat!” explained Jerry. “Get aboard.”

They got into the _Eel_, several club members coming down to the dock to learn the cause of the excitement.

“I hope you catch him!” exclaimed Mr. Wakefield, the club’s athletic instructor. He had no love for Noddy Nixon.

With Jerry at the helm, Ned cranked up, spinning the flywheel over. At the first try the _Eel_ responded, and, with a series of powerful explosions in the cylinders, started away from the dock. Jerry headed up stream, in the direction Andy said Noddy had gone.

“Though he may have turned around again and steered for the lake,” said Ned. “Better go a bit slow, Jerry, until you get some trace of him.”

“I will. I’ll light the search lamp, too, and we may be able to pick him up when quite a way off. We’ll stop at the next club house to inquire if he passed.” For there was another boating association about five miles up the stream.

The search light sent out an intense white gleam over the dark waters of the river as the night chase was begun. The _Eel_ glided ahead not unlike her namesake, and the motor boys, and their friends, with eager eyes, looked forward for the first glimpse of the bully who had their craft.

“This is some traveling!” exclaimed Jim Nestor admiringly, as the speed increased.

“It sure is,” agreed his partner. “It beats a pack mule or a burro!”

“Wait until you ride in _our_ boat,” said Ned, with proper pride. “We’ll take you on a little trip before we start for the border.”